500 words
by Kjb2609
Summary: To celebrate a follower milestone, Spartanguard and I put out a dialogue prompt list for 500 word fics. Well, 500ish, anyway. Multiship, brOTPs, ranging in rating and content, but mostly K.
1. Chapter 1

**THE PROMPT:** _in-spirational said: CS + 5 and 13 "Wait a minute, are you jealous?" and "Kiss me."_

The pirate's eye roll was nothing short of spectacular. The man could emote with the slightest lift of an eyebrow, so his pupils heading skyward added a whole other element.

An element Emma had to admit she found ridiculously attractive. Though considering they stood in the middle of King Arthur's castle as the King himself sung the praises of her father's bravery, leading him to the honoured seat at the Round Table, it seemed wise to tone it down.

Emma leaned in close, the tang of his new coat in her nose, her hand on his arm. "What's with the attitude?" she whispered as his hand closed over hers.

"It's yet another impediment to our real purpose here, Swan," he hissed, his eyes flashing in annoyance. "More pomp and circumstance when what we need is action."

She wrapped an arm around Killian's waist, pulling herself tight against him, grateful that all eyes were on her father as he ran a hand along the back of the Siege Perilous, smiling proudly at the gathered crowd. David's eyes shone, at no time more noticeable than when he met the gaze of the King himself. The two men grinned widely at each other, grasping forearms as a sign of their new friendship.

Killian tensed beside her, his breath escaping his lips in a protracted hiss. Emma turned to look at him, seeing the frustration etched on his features, the tension in the muscles of his neck and shoulders. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the King, a tiny shake of his head accompanying another sigh.

"I fear your father is placing his trust hastily," he whispered to her. "What do we really know about Arthur?"

"Thousands of years worth of stories?" She ran her fingers lightly over his cheek, his scruff tickling the delicate skin, hoping to shake him from his mood, but she was rewarded only with the ghost of a smile before his face became pensive yet again.

As if sensing the tension, her brother began to cry, his high pitched wails echoing through the chamber. As her mother tried to soothe him, Killian nodded his approval. "Apparently the infant prince is not as easily swayed by an impressive chair and some ridiculous armour. Smart lad, that one. Shows real potential."

His voice, while muted so as not to be overheard, still dripped with disdain. Taking his face in her hands, Emma looked deep into his eyes, their usual sparkling blue darkened with emotion.

"Your father is a damn fool," he muttered. "Pretty words and a handsome face is all it takes to turn his head."

"Wait a minute." Emma pulled back from him, her hands sliding down his shoulders and coming to rest around his neck. "Are you _jealous_?" She grinned knowingly at him and he scoffed, his eyes once again rolling back expressively.

"Hardly, Swan. Why would I be envious of your father's love affair with this blowhard? He is free to be awestruck by whichever royal he wishes."

Emma stepped into him, pressing her body lightly against his, a sly smile on her lips. "If you say so, pirate. But when we get out of here you'd better kiss me. Just so I'm sure."


	2. Hold That Thought

THE PROMPT: the-lady-of-misthaven asked for 28 and Captain Charming … "Marry me?"

 **Hold That Thought**

It was the kind of secret a father had mixed feelings about. Of course he had always assumed that an ancient pirate such as Killian Jones would do the old fashioned thing and come seeking his approval - hell, dreaming up increasingly more outrageous ways to panic his mate into thinking he would stand in their way was one of his favourite daydreams.

(Let's face it, he deserved a chance to give back some of the grief the pirate dished out on a daily basis. He was due a win.)

There was not a doubt in his mind that Killian's 300 years of life had been Fate's way of ensuring he and Emma found each other. You weren't half of the fairytale couple that was Snow White and Prince Charming without knowing a thing or two about true love, and despite some initial misgivings - no one's first choice for their only daughter was a cutthroat pirate, after all - Emma and Killian showed all the signs.

It was only a matter of time.

And circumstance.

This trip to Camelot had done many things, not least of which was to prove yet again that Captain Hook was a persona that no longer lived a life of his own. Killian Jones was here, fighting for Emma, believing in her light even when the situation seemed at its most hopeless.

Once, in another place that seemed a lifetime ago, he had watched a pirate look at his daughter with unrestrained longing and felt the itch of his sword hand, desperate to protect her - not that she needed it - from his villainous clutches. Now, he saw only a man who would, indeed, go to the end of the world to keep his daughter safe with no thought to the cost to himself. Who would fight for Emma's chance to choose the right path and would do whatever it took to help her do it. Who believed in Emma Swan without question.

A hero. _Her_ hero.

He had finally convinced Killian to rest, to take a quiet moment to sleep while Henry sat with Emma. The man's eyes had been ringed with red, dark circles on his skin rivalling the kohl around his eyes. It had taken a promise of staying nearby, of waking him at the slightest provocation that had finally convinced him to let the exhaustion take hold. Shoulders slumped, he had crawled into the bed in his old room at Granny's, his breathing regular and even before his head had touched the pillow.

The murmuring started almost immediately, clear sign of a man with too much to consider, too many worries for one mind to process. David tried not to listen to the jumbled words, but Killian's voice became clearer as has he tossed and turned under the light blanket.

"Swan…"

"...love you."

"Marry me…"

David smiled sadly, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he hoped against hope that the pirate - his dear friend - got the chance to say those words in happier times. What did it say for the man that even in the most dire of circumstances, his dreams held the promise of a future with his love?

Settling into the armchair in the corner of the room, he looked across at Killian, still now, but with the softest of smiles playing on his lips, his dreams clearly offering a respite that Camelot would never.

"Hold that thought, mate. Hold that thought."


	3. Well Chosen Words

**THE PROMPT:** _laschatzi asked for Captain Charming and 24, "You're the only one I trust to do this."_

As Killian lay sprawled in the dirt, his body reminding him of every one of his 300 years, each breath a long, drawn out process, he reflected on the fact that he should have known better. He prided himself on being, among other things, an intelligent man with the insight and forethought to make rational decisions in his life, a man with generally good instincts and judgement.

So why, when the gauntlet was thrown down, did he toss good sense out the window and find himself in predicaments such as this?

Two things came to mind. Bravado.

And rum.

(There was always, always rum.)

And then a third…

David bloody Nolan.

Wild horses would never make him admit it, but watching Emma's father befriend the King of Camelot had stung a little. Seeing David revel in the attention of a man of equal standing - royal no matter how he had come about that position - had served as a reminder of all that Killian was not. He and the prince shared no common ground, had fought on opposing sides of the law, in fact, but somehow they had forged a bond despite it.

And his damned desperation to rekindle it in the wake of the truth about Arthur had left him here in the dirt.

Clearly Dave had learned a thing or two from the silver tongue of the King of Camelot. He had known the right approach, the words that would have Killian agreeing to anything, no matter the level of foolishness.

(Very, very high in this case)

"You're the only one I trust to do this," he had said. "No one is better behind a wheel than you."

And his words had been prophetic - Killian's skill behind the wheel had suffered little from his lack of two hands as David's truck had careered through the field on a near collision course with a dummy horse and rider as the Prince relived the glory days of the joust.

Killian had found it impossible not to get caught up in the excitement as David hammered on the roof of the truck, urging him to go faster and faster. The lance - well, the displaced fence post - made a highly satisfying thwack as it connected with the dummy, flinging him from his steed and into the long grass.

(With a trajectory not unlike the one he himself had taken a little later)

It was madness, of course, but there was no way in all the realms Killian wasn't going to make his own pass when the Prince suggested it. His damned pride getting in the way of his better judgement, all it took was a few well placed words of encouragement to find him standing in the empty tray of the truck, his hook grounding him to the vehicle as his hand balanced the makeshift lance.

As David accelerated toward the reset dummy, the exhilaration of the wind whipping through his hair as his heart raced with adrenaline almost convinced Killian it had been a wise choice to succumb to the pressure. It was only as his hook slipped and he found himself tossed from the vehicle towards certain pain that he realised the truth of it.

Which brought him here, flat on his back, a patch of long grass the only thing softening the blow.

Blinking his eyes against the sun, he looked into the eyes of the Prince who stood above him, extending a hand to help him up.

"Impressive landing, pirate," David said, hauling Killian to his feet and clapping him heartily on the back. "No way Arthur would have had the guts to try that."

He shook his head in despair as he realised he was bloody glad to hear it.


	4. A Close Shave

**THE PROMPT:** jscoutfinch, my fellow Colinologist (that's science, baby) and gutter dweller requested 46 for Captain Swan - "Hey, have you seen the…? _Oh_."

 **A Close Shave**

One day she would learn to knock on the bathroom door. Despite his advanced years and supposed common sense, her pirate was a demon for making dubious household choices and the bathroom seemed to be his preferred location to wreak havoc with seemingly normal appliances.

Admittedly, there were occasions when a well timed entrance had worked to her advantage.

A day when a spontaneous bathroom door opening unearthed Killian clad only in a towel, for example, was always a good one. Emma was not above slumping against the door frame as he went about his business, eyes wide in admiration at the hard planes of his chest with their covering of dark hair that trailed away so enticingly.

And she couldn't deny there were times, as the shower was running fiercely and the lilt of his voice could be heard through the apartment singing old songs of the sea as he bathed, that she found herself "needing" particular items only found in the bathroom with him.

You couldn't blame a girl for admiring the scenery, after all.

But some days…

She hadn't even been thinking when she had thrown the door open in a desperate search for one missing boot.

"Hey, have you seen my…? _Oh_."

She stopped dead still, her mouth agape as she took in the sight of Killian Jones, minus a good chunk of his manicured facial hair.

"What the hell have you done?" Emma asked him, torn between wanting to comfort him in his obvious distress or laugh heartily at the most ridiculous scrape he had gotten himself into thus far.

A firm bite on her bottom lip and some very measured breathing were the only things that saved her from the second.

"This infernal gadget," he said, waving the expensive powered razor she had bought him on a whim angrily in her direction, "I can only assume it was some ruse of Hades' that accompanied you back from the Underworld. Look what the cursed device has done to my face."

Emma moved closer, running her hands over the now bare patches of flesh where once there had been ginger scruff. The right side of his face was untouched, but the left was jagged and uneven, beyond a hope of repair. "You let that get away from you, didn't you?"

"What am I to do, Swan? I can hardly remain unseen until my whiskers grow back in."

She breathed deeply, knowing he was not going to be pleased with her suggestion.

"I guess we get to find out the answer to that age old question - what is so wrong with Killian Jones' face that he hides it under a beard?" Her lips twitched in amusement as she spoke, in contrast to the look of abject horror on the face of the pirate.

Emma held out her hand for the razor, her eyes shining. "Can I do the honours?"

* * *

He had been standing at the bathroom sink for close to fifteen minutes, his hand roaming the now smooth contours of his face. His sighs were becoming more intermittent at least, Emma thought as she slid herself between him and the cabinet, her hands sliding up his chest before cupping his face gently.

"Enough feeling sorry for yourself, Jones. You'll be devilishly handsome again soon enough."

She kissed his cheek softly, enjoying the new sensation of soft skin under her lips. He was still her pirate but without his scruff she could see the innocent young man he must once have been before circumstances had changed his fate. His arms looped around her waist, pulling her hard against him.

"You're enjoying this a little too much, Swan," he complained.

"Well," she grinned,"Look on the bright side, old man. It makes you look about 200 years younger."


	5. The Rush

**THE PROMPT:** mryddinwilt asked us for 38 - "You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn't have to go to such extremes." for Hooked Queen

A/N: A disclaimer: I started this before 'Birth' aired and seriously considered abandoning it in light of new developments. But I decided Canon divergence is a thing, after all, so we will pretend the whole DO thing NEVER HAPPENED for the purposes of this fic!

 **The Rush**

It had been twenty seven days since Killian Jones had acquired magic of his own, a force that had apparently lay dormant within him for all of his many, many years of life until the Sorcerer Merlin had seen fit to bring it to the fore. As a force that served his higher purpose- the return of the Saviour to her family, and to him - he was eternally grateful for the gift bestowed by the wizard. The same could not be said for its after effects.

He was sure he would never become accustomed to the rush of power that accompanied the use of his new found magic. 300 years as a non magical, albeit unusually long living, being had not adequately prepared him for the knee-shaking, vision-blurring force that swept through his body when the red sparks shot forth from his fingertips.

It was yet another reason to admire his Swan; her grace and composure under the stress of learning to use her own magic.

Not to mention her grace and composure under the stress of having an ex Evil Queen with the sharpest of tongues as your instructor in its use.

They had tried Emma as his tutor, truly they had. It always began well, with simple spells and light hearted jests. But humour soon led to flirting, flirting to innuendo and somehow each lesson inevitably ended in a heated embrace and minor power outages throughout Storybrooke.

(The Widow Lucas had only so much patience for defrosted lasagna.)

And so it was that Killian found himself ensconced in the vault of the Mayor, surrounded by all manner of magical miscellania, as he attempted to transport his flask from one side of the room to the other at her command.

On the most recent effort, he was certain he had seen it move a quarter of an inch to the left, but Regina remained unimpressed. She stood imposingly behind him, hands on hips as she barked insults in his ears.

"What kind of pirate can't fetch his own rum?"

Each grating word had his fist clenching and his resolve strengthening - determined to silence her with success. The flask wavered, and he held tightly to the moment of hope, focusing every bit of energy on the worn leather and textured stitching.

The small container shimmered and disappeared…and Killian's world went black.

* * *

His eyes blinked wildly as he fought with consciousness. As his surroundings came into focus, he was met with the arched eyebrow of his mentor, her lips curled in an acerbic half-smile.

"Regina…" he started, attempting to raise himself seemingly from the lap of the mayor. "How did I…"

"You fainted…straight into my arms," she scoffed, hauling him up to sit and brushing non existent dust off her narrow skirt as she stood. "You know, Captain, if you wanted my attention you didn't have to go to such extremes."

Head still spinning, Killian rested his elbows on his knees as he tried to regain his composure. And his wit.

"Believe me, your Highness, it wasn't you I required then, nor is it now."

The Mayor looked down at him, the mocking expression on her face giving way to something closer to wry amusement. She reached down to him, his eyes widening as her hand slipped inside his leather jacket before he could back away.

"A man likes to be courted, milady," he began, but Regina just shook her head, eyes rolling back in an impressive show of disdain, and held out the leather covered flask she had retrieved from his pocket. A triumphant grin made its way across his face as he took it from her, and he flipped the stopper, taking a long steady slug, the familiar taste of rum a contrast to the unfamiliar sparking beneath his skin.

"Drink up, pirate," Regina ordered. "You attracting rum is hardly going to impress anyone. We have a _lot_ of work to do."


End file.
